


A scar is a story...

by Deyaniera



Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: F/M, Kinktober, Kinktober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 15:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deyaniera/pseuds/Deyaniera
Summary: Clint helps Tasha feel better about her scars.





	A scar is a story...

“Tash?”  Clint didn’t usually just open the door to Tasha’s room, but he couldn’t find his phone and he knew he’d had it when he’d been talking to her earlier.  He stopped in the doorway, then quickly came in and closed the door behind him.  He was startled because she was contorting herself in front of a mirror, naked from the waist up.

“Oh, good.  The scar on my shoulder blade is itching!”  She put a jar of something in his hand.  He sniffed it and frowned.  It was minty, light.  Not perfumey like he’d expected. 

“I take it this will help?”

“Yes,” she said, and turned her back to him.  Of course, he could still see her breasts in the mirror, but he was too startled at first.  He’d seen the scar on her shoulder blade, but she had another on her back he hadn’t seen, raw and angry, recently healed but still fresh.  “Where’d this come from?” he said, touching the lower scar. 

“The scaffold collapse.”

“Oh, shit, I didn’t realize you’d gotten hurt.”

“Black’s good for that,” she muttered. 

Clint took a fingerful of the ointment and spread it across the upper scar.  Tasha sighed in relief.  He rubbed it in, then rubbed some on the lower scar, gently.  “This looks ugly.”

“Don’t they all?”

“No, Tasha,” Clint said.  “I mean it’s raw.  It looks fresh.”

She shrugged.  “It is newer.”

“You know the scars aren’t bad.”

“I’m never going to win a bikini contest,” she muttered.

“Tasha.”  Clint turned her around, looking into her eyes.  “Like you care about that shit?”

“It gets old, Clint,” she admitted.  “I don’t even know how many scars I have anymore.”

Clint traced the scar on her collarbone, then let his fingers drift down, lightly caressing her breast.  Tasha’s breath hitched, and Clint smiled.  “I always liked your scars,” he said, leaning over and kissing the collarbone scar.  He tongued it, licking lightly, and she curled her fingers into his hair. 

Clint leaned farther down, licking her breast, then her nipple, and then he knelt and licked the scars on her stomach.  Tasha panted, and Clint pulled her pants down to lick the scar on her hip.  He looked up at her, silently asking for permission. 

She pushed the pants the rest of the way off, kicked them aside, and then sat down on the edge of her bed.  He pushed her legs apart, kissing the scar on her upper thigh, then lowering his head to her wet pussy.  She made a purring noise of pleasure as he licked her lightly, spreading her lips with his tongue.  He tongued deeper, licking all the way up to her clit, flicking it with his tongue.  She ran her fingers through his hair, then moaned when he responded by flicking her clit with his tongue.  He alternated sucking it and licking while he slid two fingers inside her, finger-fucking her the way he knew she liked it. 

 Tasha tangled her fists in her bedsheet, moaning and thrusting against Clint’s face and hand.  He wrapped his free hand around her hips to keep them still so he could suck her clit harder, knowing she was close.  And then she was coming, shuddering and throbbing around his fingers, crying out in pleasure. 

Clint stood up, unbuckling his pants, and Tasha sat up to help.  She pulled out his cock, stroking it, and then wrapped her lips around the head.  Clint groaned as she started sucking.  He slid his hands into her hair, caressing.  She sucked harder, swallowing his cock down, pulling back and swirling her tongue around the head, then repeating.  He moaned.

“God, Tasha, you’re going to make me come,” he said, pulling away.  “I want to fuck you. I want to feel you coming on my cock.”

“Then fuck me,” Tasha said, rolling over onto her knees and looking back at him. 

Clint did not need a second invitation.  He ran a hand over her ass, then rubbed his cock against her, before sliding it inside her pussy.  She moaned and rocked back against him.  He curled over her back, sliding his hands up her body to play with her breasts.  She whispered ‘yes’ and he pinched her nipples, then slid one hand down to tease at her clit. 

“God, Clint, fuck me!” she said, thrusting back against him again.  He chuckled, but he straightened and started fucking her, slow, gripping her hips to keep her from increasing the pace.  She moaned, and kept trying to move against him faster.  He increased the pace, rolling his hips to rub her gspot.  She gasped and met his thrusts, panting. 

Clint could feel the pleasure building for him, and knew he was getting close.  He fucked her harder, gritting his teeth to hold back.  But then he felt her shuddering, and she screamed.  He could feel her pussy milking him, and he let go, thrusting hard a few times before exploding inside her. 

He held her hips tight, leaning against her and panting.  Tasha was also panting.  She rolled to her side as he disengaged and sat down, letting himself fall back on the bed. 

“Damn. I need a shower,” Tasha said, when she had her breath back.

“Me too,” Clint agreed.

“Well, you have to come back once I’m done…”  A pause.  “Or you could just join me.”

“You wash my back, I wash yours?”

“Something like that.”

Clint chuckled.  “Deal.”

 

 


End file.
